


smudged light

by coffeerobin (Caramina)



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-25 23:15:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13845072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caramina/pseuds/coffeerobin
Summary: In which Hide and Touka make a joint effort to get back Kaneki and shake him back to his senses because he's acting like a total dumbass.Relationships may be added later.





	smudged light

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. 
> 
> (Deep breath)
> 
> This is my first multi-chaptered fic. I'm not sure if I'll be able to pull it off nicely. Or if my writing sucks, or if the plot is 'good' (however you define that word), or if I'd written the personalities right - or anything really. I'm not sure of a lot of things.
> 
> But what I'm sure of? Is that I hope you enjoy this first chapter. <3
> 
> (Also, archive warnings, rating and categorg are subject to change. New tags may be added along the way.)

Gosh. It's  _cold._

The fact that he could see his breaths—translucent clouds puffing out from his mouth—was proof of this, and even then it didn't linger long, quickly blown away by the cold wind that greedily sought to stole his remaining warmth. It dragged its cold claws along his cheek, and he winced, hunching into himself as he hurried his steps. Out of habit, he glanced to his side, his mouth already opening to comment on the weather—then it fell shut again at the emptiness he saw.

The person who usually filled the space next to him was gone. Was Kaneki alright? Something icy clenched his gut, and he inhaled deeply, the thin air doing little to clear his mind, only hurting his nose. _Kaneki's fine._

And yet. A small part of him still worried. Hide sighed. _Kaneki's probably doing fine. I mean, look. The Eyepatch! He's powerful enough to have attracted the attention of the CCG!_

Like that helped. If anything, it worried Hide more, and he sighed exasperatedly, the emotion directed mostly at himself. Glancing once more at the empty space, he felt an irrationally strong sense of dread and foreboding, and he tried to shake it off with good memories. Almost immediately, his lips curled into a smile as he recalled how Kaneki, in his rush to share his thoughts and praises for a story with his best friend, would go too fast and end up leaving Hide behind instead.  
  
_("God, Kaneki, slow down!"_  
  
 _"I'm so–"_  
  
 _"–rry? Don't make that face, 'Neki, I'm not mad at you. Dumb me doesn't understand what you're talking about though, so slow down! A conversation is two-sided!"_  
  
 _"I know._  
  
 _... And you're not dumb.")_  
  
A fond look curved his lips, touching his weary eyes as he reminisced, thinking of all the moments that have come and gone and would never repeat—  
  
—because things were different now, and both he and Kaneki would never again lead a normal life. One had been snatched away into the realm of the supernatural, then chose to submerge himself knee-deep in it; it's the job of the other to haul the idiot back out.  
  
_(Hide ached for the normal life Kaneki had never had a chance to live.)_

* * *

  
Eventually he arrived at his destination, his steps slowing to a halt in front of the notice board where a battered yellow poster fluttered in the wind—practically a landmark to him by now. He raised his eyebrows at the naive smile beaming at him from the frayed, worn surface, and a laugh burst from his lips, a gentle sound as he beheld the image of Kaneki before. "Are you holed up somewhere out there, reading your precious books?" he wondered out loud, a question that he thought would not receive an answer.

But it did.

"He probably is," replied a familiar female voice from behind him. Hide whirled around, his eyes wide. "Touka! You're early."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, way to state the obvious." She rubbed her arms and grumbled, "Remind me why you insisted on meeting here instead of Anteiku. It's freezing out here."  
  
Hide's gaze dropped to her legs, fine tremors racing through them, something she tried to hide but Hide's eyes observed nonetheless. In contrast to her body, which was clad in a scarf and a thick jacket, Touka's legs were bare, left to suffer the cold for a reason he had yet to discover. "You could wear pants instead of shorts, you know," he pointed out kindly.  
  
"Don't patronise me," she snapped immediately, voice rising, and he raised his hands in surrender, an attempt to placate her.  
  
"Sorry, didn't mean to!" he chirped, quick to apologise. Touka merely huffed a sigh, saying, "Come on. Get to the point." Her feet tapped against the ground, her arms folded over each other in an impatient gesture as she waited, gaze boring into him expectantly.  
  
"Anteiku has too many eavesdropping ears," he explained, and her bangs fell to one side as she tilted her head questioningly. "Private rooms exist, you know."  
  
There was a tense pause as Hide summoned courage to the surface, his heart picking up in pace.  
  
"But ghouls have good hearing, don't they?"  
  
As he'd predicted, Touka stiffened all over, her fingers twitching, while her face held anger that Hide was sure was not entirely faked (an emotion forged from fear and loss that was felt too much, too often for such a young girl—a young girl who shouldn't have had to feel all these in the first place. What lives do ghouls lead, the tragedy and bloodshed that is not always caused by their hands? Yet the blame is pinned on them nonetheless, doves of mocking white purity sweeping in with their sharp claws to eradicate what was to them the filth of the world.  
  
"What are you implying?" she demanded, a defensive note rising in her aggravated voice. "I didn't get dragged out here only to hear Anteiku accused of sheltering ghouls!"  
  
He didn't respond, only smiled wearily.

And her reaction was instantaneous, honed by years of running, of fighting. Of desperation to not lose everything she's rebuilt.

Red and orange steam unfurled from her back, shaping an ethereal wing that curved in his direction, a soft glow shifting from within. The restlessly moving steam crystallised in the blink of an eye, and was now contained within sharp shards that brushed against his throat.  
  
Blood ran down in a single rivulet, and Hide knew it was a prologue to the stream that would come if he did not choose the right words to say.  
  
"I picked this place," he confessed at last, "precisely because it's deserted." This comment stopped the deadly weapon from piercing deeper into his throat, so taken by surprise Touka was. She paused, then asked softly, "Did you come here to die?"  
  
Hide tipped his head back, gracing Touka with a radiant laugh.  
  
He answered, "No, I'm here to fix things."  
  
The ukaku disappeared in a puff of hazy red mist. "Kaneki wouldn't have let me kill you anyway," she murmured quietly, almost frustratedly, obviously hating herself for thinking of a boy who had walked away from her.

* * *

  
_(Perched on one of Kamii University's many roofs, Kaneki looks down. His face is concealed by the sneering, snarling mask that has him marked as "Eyepatch" by the CCG, but it does not hide the worry in his eyes. Hide's sunshine seems muted, somehow, and Kaneki's fingers reach out._  
  
_Then they fall back against the roof limply as he catches himself._  
  
_When he sees a familiar head of blue, he draws in a ragged breath and thinks that the world is simply too cruel. Dangling two of his beloved in front of him—a painful game of temptation._  
  
_Does he linger in their memories?_  
  
_He wants to approach them._  
  
_But he can'tcan'tcan't—_  
  
_—shouldn't._  
  
_And so, like the coward he is, he only knows how to turn and flee, though where he's going to certainly isn't a very nice place.)_

* * *

  
"Where were you," Rabbit demanded flatly, though there was little bite in his voice. The question wasn't meant to provoke, anyway.  
  
"A patrol," Eyepatch said in an even, apathetic voice, meeting Rabbit's blue eyes with his emotionless gray ones, willing them to show nothing.  
  
"That who sent you on?"  
  
"It was a self-initiated one," he responded, sounding bored as he examined his fingernails, feigning unconcern to hide the worry churning his gut. He was walking on dangerously thin ice, he knew. Aogiri Tree barely tolerated his presence, and doing anything without their explicit permission...

Well.

"Another one of your gut instincts, then?" A contemptuous sneer chased Rabbit's words, but it held no genuine hatred. Rabbit was tired. Eyepatch was tired. They all were, in a way, backs bent and broken from carrying the burden of their pasts, from the dirty work they had to do for who knows how long.  
  
And as for Rabbit—he'd been with the Aogiri since he was a teenager. _Fourteen_.

Despite knowing all the things he'd done to Touka, the brat he was, Kaneki still felt a prick of pity for Ayato.

"If not, then what?" he said, injecting annoyance into his tone.  
  
"An excuse."  
  
"For?"  
  
Hollow eyes met another pair.  
  
"My shitty younger sister. The damned manager of Anteiku. Everyone from the past you clearly can't let go of," Rabbit said simply. "Oh, don't be surprised."  
  
_"Don't call her shitty,"_ snapped Eyepatch, composure broken at last.  
  
Rabbit had touched a nerve, and he saw it, savage pleasure unfolding across his face. He quickly pressed his advantage to confirm something.  
  
"So it's true." Rabbit muttered knowingly. "You still do care."  
  
Eyepatch waited in icy silence, not rising to the bait. Even though the answer already hung between the two of them, he refused to give Rabbit the satisfaction of answering.  
  
Who was perhaps one of Tartara's most trusted operatives only exhaled tiredly. "You'll be better off forgetting them," was all Rabbit offered before his tone turned businesslike. "Get ready. The raid on Cochlea will begin soon."  
  
Soon.  
  
Soon, he would be in the quiet repetition of battle, tearing into bodies and flinging them aside again and again and again, doing the dirty work Aogiri had assigned him, but in that he would be able to find a steady peace, peace that usually evaded his reaching fingers, peace that would last until he came to his senses. When that happened, reality would then be thrown into harsh relief, the fog of insanity drawn across his eyes removed; there he would be undoubtedly enter the stage of churning regret and the whole cycle would repeat until he died.

Somewhere deep in him, he longed for that day.


End file.
